


Safety Net

by Listenerofshadows



Series: Balancing Act [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Anger, Angst With Some Comfort, Crying, Gen, Panic, Roman is an Angry and Confused Boi, Spoilers for SvS Redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23972080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: After the events of the video, the last thing Roman wants is to speak with Patton. So he goes to the one place Patton wouldn’t think to look for him.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: Balancing Act [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849756
Comments: 13
Kudos: 143





	Safety Net

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should put out a disclaimer that I do love Patton and so does Roman and they will almost certainly reconcile (just not in this fic), but have you ever been so mad with somebody you just don’t want to see their face until you calm down? This is Roman in this fic.

Roman takes a quivering, heaving breath. He grips the cream satin bed sheets of his bed, twisting and tightening the fabric into knots. His heart hammers away, a molotov cocktail of emotions burning through his gut. He cannot pin down a singular emotion. Anger, devastation, frustration, sadness, grief, humiliation–the list goes on, like in a cartoon when a character unfurls a paper and it fills the whole room, out the door and never stops.

Normally, in this state, he sets off to the Imagination. He loses himself in an adventure, slaying giants and rescuing royals to get back a feeling of good. He cannot do that today. Not after this particular discussion. He tries wrapping his brain around the semantics–is it good for him to want to create scenarios that place his fictitious kingdom at stake so he can feel good saving them? Or does that make him a bad side?

The bed sheets slips from his fingers as he grasps his pounding head, gasping. His chest stings as if someone stabbed it with a white-hot poker. He curls into himself, like a hermit crab trying to protect itself without a shell. His outfit is going to wrinkle. He cannot bring himself to care about that. 

He lays there, motionless, until there’s a knock on his door. It’s soft and tentative but it might as well be a loud clanging bell of a cathedral. Roman jolts upright like it is, his hand moving to hold onto an invisible sword that is not there at his side. 

“Roman? Can we…can we talk?” Patton.

Roman’s lips warp into a mockery of a smile. Hadn’t they done enough talking today? He can’t imagine doing more will do any good, and he’s Creativity. His whole purpose is to be imaginative. 

Before he voices any of this, the door starts to open. Roman jumps off the bed, his heart-rate rocketing. One emotion pushes its way to the front; rage. It pulses through him, radiating his entire being. His whole body trembles. He does not want to be coddled with soft words and touches. He wants to hold onto this anger alone and scream until his voice gives out on him.

He doesn’t stay long enough to catch a glimpse of Patton. He teleports going somewhere, anywhere, that Patton wouldn’t think to look for him. It’s dark where he pops up. This freaks him out, his eyes stinging as they readjust. He stumbles around, tripping on something. He crashes hard onto the floor. He takes a breath and then promptly wails.

It isn’t quite the fall that causes this. It’s the darkness he’s in that intensifies the emotions already present. His concealer is ruined. Just like his pride and everything he fought so hard for. It’s been torn to pieces like Cinderella’s stepsisters ruining her dress.

A shadow stirs in the distance. A murky outline that might be a person and might also be a monster. He swears their eyes glow, but it might just be because of his watery tear-filled vision.

“Roman?” A voice asks. The shadow seems to tilt their head, as if confused by his presence. 

He doesn’t respond. Not unless you count a warbling cry and a slight half-jerk of the head. He hopes the shadow will go away and torment someone else. Perhaps if he ignores it and turns his head away, it will.

“Wait, shit, Roman?!” Within a blink the shadow is at his side, “Roman, what the hell, you need to get out of here.”

The shadow, of course, isn’t just a shadow; it’s Virgil. Up close, he looks much worse for wear than Roman himself. A disheveled rat’s nest of a hair, sunken red-tinted eyes, charcoal black panic clinging heavily to his frame. He holds onto Roman, as if preparing a sink-out.

Roman knocks him back, scrambling away until he hits a wall. He heaves, his eyes darting around for any potential escape route. He doesn’t want to leave. This is the one place Patton wouldn’t dare to look for him. He refuses to leave.

Virgil looks at him, eyebrows raised. “Roman–”

“Please,” He begs, “let me stay, I swear on–on my honor I won’t mess with your stuff, why you won’t even know I am here!”

“Why?”

“W-what?” Roman splutters.

“Why do you want to stay?” Virgil asks softly, “My room–it’s hurting you Roman, you know that.”

Roman lets out a laugh. Harsh and blinding like a sunset’s glare on a windshield. It certainly feels like he’s the sun; burning and bubbling with heat, ready to one day explode and cease all life around him forever.

He tries opening his mouth to explain, but it comes out all jumbled. “I–the wedding–Patton–Janus–”

“Wait, Janus?” Virgil asks, his gaze darkening.

Roman nods miserably. Pathetic, he cannot even voice his own fears to the embodiment of Thomas’ fears. How he fears Deceit–Janus is lying again. Tricking Thomas and Patton just like he’d tricked him at the courtroom. How he fears he’s inadequate, unable to achieve the wants and desires of Thomas’ heart. How he fears Thomas never meant any of his praise, that he wasn’t ever truly his host’s hero. That above all else, he’s terrified because he’s lost and confused, on a tightrope with no safety net.

Strong arms latch onto him, pulling him away from the wall. He cannot find the strength to fight against it. Rather, he falls into them, weeping. The arms encircle him, acting as a protective shield from the world.

“Roman, I’m here.” Virgil whispers. 

There’s a weight to those three simple words. A meaning. As much he’d like for the anxious broody side to have been there earlier, he is here now. And he is probably not letting go of Roman for a long, long time.


End file.
